


Legacy

by masonverger_rising



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masonverger_rising/pseuds/masonverger_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margot Verger knows what she needs to do, but she needs a little help to do it. Hannibal Lecter has a suggestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tripleCrocodilian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripleCrocodilian/gifts).



"I don’t get a legacy," she meets his gaze, unwavering. Once her voice might have shaken with that sentiment, but her eyes are dry. She doesn’t cry over the things she can’t have any more.

"Unless you make one," Doctor Lecter’s eyes glitter, there is a tiny quirk of his mouth.

Margot takes his meaning and for a moment, in the space between two breaths it feels like she might scream, her eyes widen fractionally but her self-control is absolute. She blinks, considers for a moment.

"I would need help to do that," Margot’s voice doesn’t change but she smiles, slow and sweet, lowering her eyes to look over the doctor’s suit as though she’s only just noticed it, only just noticed him.

"You would need someone you can trust," Hannibal doesn’t smile but he uncrosses his legs and leans toward her slightly, "and someone who knows the  _danger_  in your situation,” he wonders if she knows how like her brother she looks when she smiles that way. _  
_

"I need someone who isn’t going to get in my way," she fiddles with the top button of her blouse and watches his mouth.

"Your brother attempted to seduce me as well," Hannibal’s expression doesn’t change.

"No he didn’t," she meets his eyes again, and lets out a huff of almost-laughter, "and neither am I."

"Oh?"

"We don’t do seduction. It’s all just … business," she stands and unbuttons the cuffs of her blouse, takes a few short steps to close the space between them.

"He attempted to eliminate me as competition," Hannibal doesn’t move to touch her, though she is close enough that he could and he knows that she wouldn’t struggle against it, "and you are—"

"I’m applying for a start-up grant," she says lightly, pushing her knee between his legs, her hands tugging the hem of her skirt up a few inches, "I have some great ideas for the direction of the company, I just need some help getting off the ground," she leans down and smooths Hannibal’s tie.

Hannibal blinks. On the snowy field that surrounds his memory palace a wounded fawn lifts her tired head, muscles trembling around the crude arrow in her flank, “I want to help you,” he says, the smile he gives her is sad.

"Then help me," she straddles his lap, hands sliding down to undo his belt.

He can see the distance in her eyes, despite her confidence and the ease with which she directs the situation. He tries not to think about how she developed such a detachment from her own disgust.

_Perhaps_ , he thinks as he slides her skirt up over her hips and pulls the gusset of her panties aside,  _we can discuss that in a future session._


End file.
